NAHKRIIN
by BlackBlood1872
Summary: ["You're Dragonborn?" / He pointed at himself. "Argonian. Lizard." He pointed at a wall, gesturing towards the dragon outside. "Dragon. Flying lizard. It's really not that difficult of a concept to grasp."]
1. Kotin Helgen

Just so you know, on Archive of Our Own, I used the tag "excessive use of Dovahzul". Please heed that warning and don't hate this too much. Word translations are the bottom of the chapter. I'm so sorry.

* * *

NAHKRIIN  
Kotin Helgen | Into Helgen

* * *

When Nahkriin Meytuz was young, his father told him tales of dragons. He called them _Dovah_ and spoke of great _graatte_ and shouting matches that could level forests with their ferocity. He wove intricate stories of heroes and villains, of men who learned from the Dovah and eventually fought against them. Along the way, Nahkriin was taught the words the Dovah used, _Dovahzul_, and how they were different from the _Thu'um_, softer and safe to use with mortal company.

Motmahus was his first teacher and while his father was many things, Motmahus wasn't the easiest to work with. When Nahkriin stumbled through his words, more practice was added. More and more _tiid_ spent on memorizing and writing sentences, hour after hour.

While he hated spending so much time away from his _fahdonne_, Nahkriin would admit he was grateful, years later, for all his father did for him.

Because knowing _Dovahzul_ was one of the main things that saved his life once he crossed the border into Skyrim and legends came back to life.

* * *

Nahkriin had never known the Black Marsh. He was born in Leyawiin in the province of Cyrodiil and lived with his father. He knew nothing of his mother and while he'd asked when he was younger, Motmahus' eyes would always burn with a sort of pain and soon, he stopped asking.

She wasn't missed very often. He'd never known her, and the other Argonian inhabitants made sure that he never went without the comforts of mothering. While they weren't his by blood, the women he grew up leaning on were good enough.

Argonian. _Siigonis_. His father taught him that word; it was one of the first words he learned when he started learning the language of the Dragons. It was their heritage, Motmahus told him. The _sossedov_ ran thick in their family and Nahkriin was proud of that. He also thought it was a believable fact, though Nords always wished to believe their own race alone was the bearer of the Dragonblood. That was ridiculous.

Argonians, as _lizards_, were much more likely to have a connection to dragons; giant, flying _lizards_.

Nahkriin found himself disdainful towards _Bronne_, with just cause. They hated his race, calling him and his kin beasts and pushing them to the outskirts of the village they lived in. They were treated as lesser beings for something none of them could control and he hated it.

Once, he'd asked his _bormah_ why he allowed such treatment. If only they knew... if they learned that the very people they were ostracizing were the ones who could end their life with but a raised word...

Motmahus told him that they shouldn't flaunt what they were so maliciously. That it would only inspire fear and hatred and they had enough of that as it was.

Reluctantly, Nahkriin let it go. But he still watched the Nords with thinly veiled _irkbaan_ and waited for the day when he could get back at them for all the wrong they'd done to him during his life.

He got that chance three years later at the age of twenty one, when he father told him to head for the northern province of Skyrim. A _hahnuheim_ had come to him, like they always did, and showed him a fate both great and terrible and that Nahkriin was the one to follow it through.

So he left. He wasn't one to question his father, not after all the times he had and all the consequences that came of it. He'd learned early that his father knew what he was doing, even if Nahkriin couldn't see the logic.

So he headed north and crossed the border with legitimate papers and was on his way. He just never expected to find what he did.

* * *

Helgen was a quiet town; small and steady, with long family histories and plenty of inside jokes.

Nahkriin barely fit in. He knew he could have gone further into _Keizaal_, north to Riverwood or west to Falkreath, but something about this town felt strange. Compelling, almost, and he couldn't bring himself to leave. Something was going to happen here and he needed to stay to witness it.

Then the soldiers arrived. They cleared out a section of the village, setting up a podium and a curved block. A basket sat by its side and Nahkriin shivered just seeing it. A headsmen block. There was going to be an execution.

Was this what he'd waited for?

Three days later, two carts full of poorly dressed men and woman rolled into the village. The other villagers shouted _faazrotte_ and threats but Nahkriin stayed silent, watching them. One man was especially talkative in the last cart, pointing out the General and the fact that the Thalmor were here as well. Nahkriin looked at the gate they'd entered through and saw both mentioned people, General Tullius conversing quietly with a darkly robed female Altmer. She wore a bored expression but watched the prisoners with dark eyes.

"General Tullius, sir," a guard started and the general glanced down, "the headsman is waiting."

He nodded and started to climb back to the ground. "Good. Let's get this over with."

Nahkriin turned away and tried to ignore the growing feeling of _faast_ in his gut.

The prisoners were let out the carts and identified, though one ran when he was called. He was shot down and Nahkriin stared at the body blankly. What had he done to come here? Was it worth _dinok_? The Argonian didn't know and now, he'd never find out. Feeling numb, he watched as the rest gathered around the block.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," one of the soldiers sneered at a richly clothed, gagged man. Nahkriin swallowed. So the _kinbok_ had be caught? "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Nahkriin had heard of that. How, just months ago, the Jarl of Windhelm had traveled to Solitude and challenged the High King. He didn't like that the first mention he'd heard of the Thu'um was followed by senseless death and civil war. That wasn't right.

But what could he do? Nothing_. _Here, he had no power, nothing to help end the war that plagued _Keizaal_. And even if he did, that wasn't what he wanted. Not really. He just wanted the slander against his _haavneviis_ to end.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to _put you down_ and restore the peace," the soldier continued. Ulfric made noises through his gag, but the cloth bound his voice. A precaution they took with no other prisoners. Nahkriin felt cold. Would they have done that to his, if he'd entered without the papers he had?

Then a faint roar filled the air around them and the coldness he felt froze him on the spot. A Dovah? But it couldn't be; they were dead, left this world ages and ages ago.

"What was that?" one of the soldiers wondered, drawing Nahkriin's gaze back to them. Everyone was looking at the sky, but Nahkriin knew the dragon wouldn't be here yet. He glanced over the trees at the _strunmah_ behind him. _Monahven_. The Throat of the World. The roar sounded like it came from there.

"It's nothing," the General said quietly. Nahkriin thought the man didn't quite believe himself. "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius," the captain sounded eerily cheerful and Nahkriin wondered uneasily if she found _genazend_ in this. "Give them their last rites."

A priestess started reciting prayers, but one of the prisoners came forward and interrupted her. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," he said. Nahkriin didn't know if he should commend the man for his _ahkrin_ in the face of Death, or curse him for his _hinz_.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning!" The man was kicked down into place, but even as he knelt, he glared at the soldiers around him. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

Nahkriin supposed he wouldn't be able to do either.

The _oprotakiik_ lifted his axe, the weapon long and sharp, gleaming in the sunlight. He'd likely had it cleaned and sharpened for this very occasion. The idea made Nahkriin sick. He closed his eyes but couldn't block the sound as the axe came down and the man's head was removed.

"Damn you Imperial bastards!" one of the prisoners, a woman, shouted.

"Justice!" one to the villagers shouted back.

On the porch of the house beside him, a woman called "Death to the Stormcloaks!"

He desperately wished this would end.

Another _rein_ echoed through the air and Nahkriin looked up with everyone else. Of course, he saw nothing and glanced towards the mountain. Was it his _marahld_, or did he see the tail of a Dovah slip out of sight?

Muttering filled the town, _aank_ starting to settle on everyone. The captain cut their words short with a barked order of silence. Nahkriin wished it were that simple and shivered as dread settled over him. A Dovah was coming. He hoped there were survivors.

"Next, the blond!" the _ruveyzun_ called, her voice twisted with gleeful malice. Nahkriin saw the talkative Nord swallow heavily, but walk forward like he was supposed to. He knelt without being forced, but the captain still pushed him lower with her foot.

Nahkriin never wanted to kill someone as much as he wanted to kill that woman. She deserved death.

Fortunately for him, he might get his wish. A roar louder than either of the others split the air over Helgen, a large _vul Dovah_ flying from the cover of _Monahv__e__n_. It circled the village and landed on the tower behind the headsman, the shock wave of its landing knocking everyone to the ground.

"Dragon!"

His heart thudded in his chest, his pulse throbbing loudly in his ear. A dragon; a _Dovah_, here, now? How?

"_Yol..._" he heard, and his eyes' widened as he watched the Dovah draw a deep breath. No, it couldn't be– "_Toor Shul_!"

But it was, and the courtyard went up in flames, the _oprotakiik _screaming as he was engulfed in fire. Soldiers and villagers alike screamed with him and in the chaos, Nahkriin saw a few of the prisoners rush for the tower three doors down from him.

He ran to join them.

"What is that thing?" the blond panted, _vokoraak_ and shock clouding his voice. He was rubbing his wrists, the bindings cut. "Could legends be true?" Beside him, looking through one of the arrowslits, was Ulfric Stormcloak. Like the blond, his bonds were gone and his voice was quiet when he spoke.

"Legends don't burn down villages."

"I wish that were true," Nahkriin muttered, a taste like _kii_ in his mouth. His father never told him this. Never had the stories ended in such gore. He shivered. That was his legacy? That _kriivahkei Dovah_?

All eyes turned to him and a few of the kneeling warriors grabbed for their weapons. Ulfric was staring at him with narrow eyes, but signaled for the men to be at ease. The blond looked him over.

"When did you get here?" he asked and he glanced at Nahkriin's hands. "Were you one of the prisoners?"

"No, I wasn't," Nahkriin denied. Something shook the building they were in and he thought it might have been pressure from the dragon flying by. A _rein_ confirmed his thought. "But there's no safety out there and I found some."

"There's none here, either, Argonian," Ulfric said lowly. The tower shook again. He turned to address the others, "We need to move. Now!"

Soldiers scrambled to their feet, the wounded leaning heavily on the shoulders of their fellows. The blond nodded at him and started up the stairs. "Follow me!"

Nahkriin didn't question it. Maybe he'd be stabbed in the back once they were safe from the Dovah, but for now, he'd trust them. He didn't have much of a choice.

He could stay and try to fight, his ability to use the Thu'um handy against a Dovah. But Ulfric, who could also use the Voice, was running. Which meant there was little use in trying. And that dragon... Motmahus told him a few, milder tales that echoed this battle, told of the great Dovah _Alduin_... with scales as black as night and the morality of the worst criminal. There was no doubt in Nahkriin's mind of who was attacking them. And he stood no chance against him.

Halfway up the stairs, the wall crumbled inward and Alduin's head appeared in the hole. Nahkriin stumbled back into the blond warrior, barely saving both their lives as those three words repeated themselves.

"_Yol Toor Shul_!" The inside of the tower became like a stove and Nahkriin shielded his eyes against the light. One man screamed. When he opened his eyes, Alduin was gone and a charred _naas_ lay on the stones.

The blond gulped behind him and Nahkriin glanced back, seeing his face pale and sweaty. Their eyes met and the man pushed past him.

"Come on," he said gruffly, refusing to look at the body. "Jump down to the building. Get to the keep. That's the way out."

Nahkriin only nodded. He jumped and jarred his legs on impact with the second floor of the Inn, looking at the destruction with a heavy heart. Even if it'd only been a few months, Helgen had been his _hofkiin_. And now... now, it was gone.

He fell to the first floor and ran out into the streets, cutting through broken buildings and avoiding streams of _yol_. All around him, people were screaming and dieing and the soldiers were shooting arrows at Alduin. But nothing changed; Alduin didn't weaken and more and more people fell.

He should be helping. Nahkriin felt frustration well up inside of him and almost turned back. But what could he do? Nothing he knew would be useful against _Alduin_ and everyone else was trying their hardest to escape the walls and run from the assault. It was the only thing they could do.

Nahkriin kept his eyes on the ground and ran.

The keep came into view and he saw the blond man standing inside an open _miiraad_, scanning the area around him. When he saw Nahkriin, he nodded and held the door open a little more. Nahkriin rushed inside and the man closed the door.

Inside the keep, Nahkriin slumped against the wall, running his hands over his face, trying desperately not to cry. He didn't cry, so why did he want to now? He barely knew this town; he knew he couldn't help. So _why..._

"My name's Ralof," the blond said, shattering Nahkriin's train of thought and he looked up, watching as the blond shifted uncomfortably.

"Nahkriin," he returned and saw Ralof's brows furrow.

"What?" he barked out. Nahkriin shrugged. The man shook his head. "Never mind, I don't care. Here."

A war axe was shoved into his hands and Nahkriin fumbled with it. He shifted it to his left hand and fixed his grip, giving it a few swings. The weight was wrong, but the weapon was cheap and that was expected. Iron. Nahkriin had always used glass before.

"Good enough," he muttered and attached it to his belt. By one of the closed doors – more wooden spikes than a door – Ralof cursed. Nahkriin joined him. "What is it?"

"It's locked," he grumbled. "We'll have to wait until someone opens it from the other side. There's another door, but it needs a key."

"Well then."

Silence descended on them. Nahkriin sat on the floor beside the gate, leaning his back against the wall. The _vol_ of the day was starting to truly sink in and he had to close his eyes. A Dovah. He couldn't believe it.

"A dragon," Ralof muttered next to him. "I can't believe it."

Nahkriin snorted. When Ralof glared at him, he just shook his head. "Why are you so calm right now?" the _Bron_ asked bitingly.

"Because I'm forcing myself to be," Nahkriin replied dryly. He gazed at the ceiling, watching as dust fell when the dragon shook the building. "My father raised my on tales of the Dovah, of the battles they waged and their Thu'um. I'm almost used to this, though I never thought I'd live it."

Ralof frowned. "Two of those words are strange," he said slowly and Nahkriin blinked at him, surprised.

"What? Which ones?"

"Something like Doh-va and a shortened, lisped version of Skooma."

Nahkriin chuckled. "Dovah means dragon. And for the next, I wasn't saying _Skoom__'__._ I said _Thu'um_. You know it as the Voice," he explained.

"What language is that?" Ralof asked, if for no other reason than there was nothing else to do.

"Dovahzul," Nahkriin said and grinned when Ralof still looked blank. "Draconic," he said instead and Ralof sucked in a startled breath.

"The language of the Dragons?" he gasped, leaning away. "That language _that thing_ was speaking?"

"Did you hear it?" Nahkriin had to ask and Ralof gave a terse nod. "It was using a Thu'um, a Shout. Fire Breath. Yol toor shul."

Ralof shuddered and the image of flames danced in both their minds.

"How do you know that?"

"My father taught me. All my family, back generations, knows Dovahzul," Nahkriin added. "My father told me it's our heritage and that we should always know that."

"Your heritage?" Ralof wondered and Nahkriin nodded.

"Yes. My family is Dragonborn."

The stunned silence that followed was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Nahkriin glanced past the gate and saw the _Lokolte__ir__en_ captain with one of her soldiers. He stood calmly and quietly while Ralof gaped at him. Then, after the soldiers were close enough to the gate to reach the chain that would open it, he scrambled to his feet and unsheathed his weapon.

"The captain's mine," Nahkriin whispered fiercely and Ralof nodded. Then the gate came down and the two sprung out of the _vokunne_ slashing.

The foot soldier went down quickly with a blow to the head, but the captain took longer, her armor blocking some of the damage Nahkriin was inflicting. He grit his teeth and growled, aiming a punch at her chest. It stunned her and she flinched, her eyes glaring for the second she had.

Then his axe hit her jugular and her head flopped, blood spraying his face.

Nahkriin and Ralof stood over the two bodies, quivering with the thrill the short fight had brought. After taking a long, steadying breath, Nahkriin bent to clean his blade and search for anything the _Lokolteiren_ _rahzunne_ had that was of value.

He found the key to the locked door in the captains' pocket and handed it to Ralof. He keep their coin purses for himself. If Ralof disliked that decision, he kept his opinion to himself.

The door they went through led to stairs and curved into a long hallway. Dust fell from the ceiling and the stones around them rattled. Nahkriin grabbed Ralof's arm and pulled him back right before he heard another roar and the ceiling came crashing down. So much for that path.

"We'll have to go around," Ralof told him. There was a door right next to them and he ran through that, Nahkriin following. In the first part of the room was a large fireplace, a cooking pot laying abandoned in front of it. Nahkriin could smell soup.

Further in, there were more soldiers and Ralof cut them down. Nahkriin ignored him and looked through the room, taking any and all potions the soldiers had. The few Setpims lying around found their way into his coin purse. A scoop of the not yet burnt soup filled a ladle and that was his _kipraan_ for the afternoon; he knew he wouldn't be seeing food until he reached another town, whenever that was going to be.

The next hallway led to more stairs and up ahead, he could hear fighting. Ralof ran ahead of him and peeked around the door. His face twisted grimly.

"Torture chamber," he reported. Inside, two men in Imperial armor attacked a lone Stormcloak, her partner bleeding out on the ground. Ralof jumped in and the surprise of the attack allowed them to finish of the soldiers.

Nahkriin rushed to the wounded man, but there was nothing he could do. The spells he could use were short lived and for petty wounds; a cut or shallow gash or a headache. Not a stomach wound that he could already see was going to be fatal. He shook his head to the woman when she knelt beside him.

"You go on ahead," she whispered, grabbing the man's hand and holding it despite the blood. Nahkriin nodded and, after spending a moment picking up whatever he could, including a light colored knapsack, left with Ralof leading the way.

"His was an honorable death," the Nord said gruffly. Nahkriin simply nodded. It seemed a waste, to throw away your life over the gods, but he wouldn't mention it. _Bronne_ were funny that way, with what they valued. But they were sensitive over it and if Nahkriin knew anything, it was how to stay away from those kinds of topics.

A room with stone bridges and running water was next and the two of them knocked down five Imperials. Once in the far corner of the room, Nahkriin closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer to Arkay, as his father had taught him. Senseless death would taint them, Motmahus told him, and those with the blood of _dov_ didn't need any more curses on them than they already had.

"We should be close to an exit," Ralof said, glancing back at him. "What are you doing?"

"Praying to Arkay," Nahkriin said quietly. He continued muttering under his breath, ending with a louder "_Aak silleu wah Sovngarde._"

"Alright then," Ralof muttered and started forward again. Nahkriin followed a moment later, watching as Ralof pulled the lever to drop a drawbridge. As they passed over it, Alduin roared again and once they were in the next room, the ceiling over the bridge collapsed, destroying it. Ralof took a step away from it and looked rattled. "Well, no going back that way," he said, trying to hide the shaking in his voice.

"Guess not."

They walked through the cave tunnels silently and fought off the Frostbite spiders in the next room, though Ralof shuddered just seeing them. Nahkriin found a large coin purse across the cave from a bear and took it with a grin as Ralof scowled at him. A bottle of Black-Briar mead was on the ground in front of the cart and he tossed that at Ralof as a peace offering. The man took it with a sigh.

They sneaked passed the bear, since Nahkriin knew neither of them would be able to take it out with weak, brittle _dol_ arrows. Besides, the only bows they'd managed to grab were long bows and those didn't have the right amount of tension to them.

Beyond that cave was a long, thinner tunnel and they took that until they could see light. Ralof sighed in relief. "That looks like the way out. I knew we'd make it!"

Nahkriin laughed at his enthusiasm and the man gave him a weak glare. _Kusah_. Maybe Ralof didn't hate him as much now as he did before. He supposed the way onto his good side was fighting on his side of the war.

Not that Nahkriin was going to make that a habit. If he could stay out of it, he would, for as long a he could.

They stepped into _shulkun_ and Nahkriin smiled as he tilted his head to catch more of the light. It'd felt like days in those caves, but the sun was telling him it had only been a few hours. No matter. They were free now, away from the burning village and Alduin.

Just then, a roar echoed in the sky around them and Nahkriin flinched, dropping into a crouch. Ralof copied him and they watched from behind a bolder as the _vul _Dovah flew from Helgen, back towards _Monahv__e__n_.

"Looks like its gone for now," Ralof muttered.

"If I know Alduin's history, it won't be for long," Nahkriin replied. Ralof snapped his head in the Argonian's direction.

"What do you mean by that?" he barked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Nahkriin shrugged. "I grew up listening to stories of Dovah and learning their language. I told you that. But this Dovah, Alduin, is known as the World-Eater," he looked at where he'd last seen the dragon, eyes dark. "He won't give up until he's destroyed this world, or is destroyed."

"Isn't that fucking fantastic?" Ralof said darkly. He was scowling but Nahkriin could make out his tremors. _Faas_. Of course, this one had been on the block, moments from death, when the Dovah appeared. Nahkriin couldn't fault him his fear.

"Come on," Nahkriin said, standing and brushing off his clothes. "Let's get as far from here as we can."

Ralof nodded but didn't reply. They started walking and as they did, Ralof took the lead.

Everything around him was peaceful, as if a town hadn't just been destroyed, lives lost and illusions shattered. Birds were chirping, a fox was scavenging and somewhere, he could hear water running. Nahkriin looked at the scenery in fascination. How could things just go on, after what happened? Didn't Nirn know what was going to happen? Alduin was going to do his best to end this world, yet nothing but Nahkriin's unease seemed to reflect it.

"Where are you going to go?" Ralof asked quietly. Nahkriin glanced at him, knowing he was being generous on the topic, since Nahkriin had just lost his home. He shrugged.

"I was thinking of going to either Riverwood or Falkreath," he said. "Those were always ideas of mine."

"My sister lives in Riverwood; that's where I'm going," Ralof told him. Nahkriin frowned.

"Then I could follow you? You're probably going to be telling her of the attack; I could lend a second view of it."

Ralof looked surprised. "I suppose. And, if it doesn't bother you, someone needs to report it to Jarl Balgruuf and it can't be me."

"Why not?"

Ralof sent him a wry grin. "Because I'm a Stormcloak and most of the guards are not."

That would put a damper on going, if the _rahzunne_ of the city were of the mind to kill on sight. "If I'm needed," Nahkriin conceded. And if he knew Alduin, he would be. He wondered if that was what his father's vision had been about; the dragon's return to Skyrim and the subsequent need for the Dovahkiin. The need for _him_.

He'd just have to see, wouldn't he?

How... fun.

* * *

KEY:

Nahkriin. Vengeance.  
Mey Tuz. Fool blade.  
Dovah. Dragon.  
Graat. Debate.  
Dovahzul. Dragon language/Draconic.  
Thu'um. Dragon shout.  
Motmahus. Elusive. Slippery.  
Tiid. Time.  
Fahdon. Friend.

Siigonis. Argonian.  
Sossedov. Blood of the dragons.  
Bron. Nord.  
Bormah. Father.  
Irkbaan. Hatred/Hate.  
Hahnuheim. Vision.  
Keizaal. Skyrim.

Faazrot. Insult.  
Faast. Panic/Alarm.  
Dinok. Death.  
Kinbok. Leader.  
Haavneviis. Heritage.  
Strunmah. Mountain.  
Monahven. The Throat of the World.  
Genazend. Pleasure.  
Ahkrin. Courage.

Hinz. Stupidity.  
Oprotakiik. Executioner.  
Rein. Roar.  
Marahld. Imagination.  
Aank. Anxiety/Unease.  
Ruveyzun. Captain.  
Vul. Dark.  
Yol Toor Shul. Fire Inferno Sun. Fire Breath Thu'um.

Vokoraak. Disbelief.  
Kii. Ash.  
Kriivahkei. Murderous.  
Al Du In. Destroyer Devourer Master.  
Naas. Corpse.  
Hofkiin. Home.  
Yol. Fire.  
Miiraad. Door/Doorway.  
Vol. Horror.

Lokolteiren. Imperial.  
Vokun. Shadow.  
Rahzun. Soldier.  
Kipraan. Meal.  
Dov. Dragonkind.  
Aak silleu wah Sovngarde. Guide their souls to Sovngarde. (I swear. 'silleu' is souls [_sille_], plus suffix -u meaning 'our' or 'their'. Thuum dot org will not translate it.)

Dol. Iron.  
Kusah. Interest.  
Shulkun. Sunlight.  
Faas. Fear.

Adding a repeat of the last letter and -e makes a word plural. Adding -i makes it singular possessive (my, your, his, hers) while adding -u makes it plural possessive (our, their).  
Bare with me; this will probably happen a lot. And I'm trying to make most of the chapters this long.  
I mostly used thuum dot org for this, but the UESP page on Dragon Language helped too.


	2. Kotin Riverwood

What's _this_? A second chapter? Wow.  
Enjoy.

* * *

NAHKRIIN  
Kotin Riverwood | Into Riverwood

* * *

The walk to Riverwood was spent mostly in silence. Ralof pointed out a few landmarks; the three Guardian stones, the Barrow on the mountain. He told Nahkriin about his _briinah_, about her husband and son. Once night began to fall, he quieted. When he next spoke, his voice was soft.

"Hadvar lives in Riverwood," he said. Nahkriin vaguely remembered that one of the Imperial soldiers had been called that. "We were friends, once, before the war reached us. His uncle is the blacksmith here. We used to play soldiers in the streets, wearing the armor Alvor forged though it was much too large."

He sounded wistful and Nahkriin realized that, though the war tore them apart, Ralof wished it never happened. If they'd stayed away... if they'd avoided joining the sides they had... would they still be friends?

Ralof shook his head. "It doesn't matter now," he grumbled, unknowing echoing the conclusion Nahkriin came to himself. Looking up, he made a pleased noise. "And we're here."

Indeed they were. Standing merely a few yards before them was the stone and wooden gate wall, though it lacked the actual _skuld_. They walked through the arch and Ralof led him through the streets, turning right after the shop called the 'Riverwood Trader'. From there, he knocked on the door of the house right behind it.

A woman opened the door and gasped when she saw her _zeymah_. They embraced and Nahkriin looked away, focusing instead on the man standing behind her. He was a big man, though most _Bronne_ were, and had blond hair similar to Ralof's. That was the only similarity between them though, since this man dwarfed Ralof in size.

"And who is this?" Gerdur asked once she'd pulled away from her brother and saw Nahkriin. Ralof turned towards him but Nahkriin was the one who answered.

"My name is Nahkriin. I used to live in Helgen."

"Used to?" the large man – Hod, Nahkriin remembered Ralof telling him – asked, his brow furrowed. Both survivors nodded grimly.

"Let's talk inside. This..." Ralof looked around, seeing a pair of children playing nearby, "this isn't something pleasant."

Gerdur herded them into the house and demanded they eat as they told their tale. When they did, she gasped in all the right places, her eyes wide. When she heard of Ralof's near _oprotak_, she looked like she was going to cry and Nahkriin turned his gaze fully to his food. That wasn't something he ever liked seeing.

They told the family of their escape, Ralof embellishing how Nahkriin helped him put down _Lokolteirenne_ and save two of their fellow rebels. Nahkriin didn't correct him, though he knew only one of those two was alive, if that.

"And he told me..." Ralof trailed off, looking at Nahkriin with reluctant eyes. Nahkriin knew which fact the _Bron_ was talking about.

"He wondered about my name and how I knew so much of the Dovah attacking us," Nahkriin spoke up. "I told him how my father taught me Dovahzul and told stories of the Dovah, since it's our heritage as Dovahkiin."

The two who didn't already know swallowed heavily, their eyes wide. Ralof rolled his eyes. "Dovah, dovah, dovah," he muttered mockingly. "Why can't you just say _dragon_ and be done with it?"

Nahkriin laughed, shaking his head. "I've always known them as that. It's hard to break habits."

"Dovahkiin," Hod whispered, his voice cracking. "_Dragonborn?_"

Nahkriin nodded. Ralof sighed. "He says it's true, but I have no proof of it. And how could _your family_ be Dragonborn?" he suddenly demanded, turning on the Argonian. "The last of that line was Martin Septim and you don't look like him!"

Nahkriin grimaced, "That's the thing. You _b__ronne_ always think its _your_ legend, so the Dovahkiin _must_ be a Nord. Well, think of this; _dragons_ are giant, flying _lizards_. What other race would be half as believable?"

The Nords grimaced, knowing he had a point. Warp his proportions enough and give him wings and Nahkriin would look like a proper dragon. They didn't have to admit that, though.

"I could always Shout for you, if you don't believe me," Nahkriin offered blandly. Ralof quickly shook his head.

"No. That won't be necessary." He looked uneasy and Nahkriin was sure he was remembering the damage Alduin did. Nahkriin understood; seeing that almost made him fearful of himself.

He shook his head, slight enough that no one noticed. No, he couldn't fear himself. He was Dovahkiin and this _suleyk_ was a part of him. It was what he decided to do with it that decided what kind of person he was. And he wasn't the kind of person to senselessly _kriind_ anyone in his way.

"There are harmless Thu'um," he felt the need to tell them. They all, Ralof especially, looked skeptical. "Take _Wuld_ for example. The word means 'whirlwind' and as a Thu'um, it moves you forward at great speeds. _Lok Vah Koor_ clears away bad weather. _Kaan Drem Ov_ calms wildlife."

"You sure know a lot," Gerdur said. "Did the Greybeards teach you?"

"No, _bormahi_ did. Well," Nahkriin waved his hand, "he tried. I learned the Thu'um through books and meditation. But it only takes so long for Dovahkiin to learn; from what I hear, the Greybeards need years to learn a single _r__otmulaag._"

"You need to stop doing that," Hod groaned, pressing his face into his hands. Nahkriin stared at him blankly.

"Doing what?"

"You don't even notice?" Ralof asked and Nahkriin shook his head. "You talk and we understand you and then you go and say some weird word in the middle of your sentence and we're all lost again."

"Ah," Nahkriin looked away, sheepish. "Yes, people have mentioned I do that. But I've been speaking Dovahzul since I was _goraan_; I know it as well as I do Imperial common. People are usually more surprised that I don't know Jel."

"You don't? But I thought– well, with, you know," Gerdur made an abstract gesture.

"Because I'm Argonian, I automatically know the _tinvok_ of the Black Marsh." He shook his head. "I was born and raised in Leyawiin. My sire, Motmahus, has lived his whole life in Leyawiin. None of the _Siigo__n__isse_ in Leyawiin knew Jel, so I had no one to teach me."

"Sorry for assuming," Gerdur said quietly and Nahkriin let out a deep breath.

"Forgiven. I've grown used to it."

They lapsed into silence then and Nahkriin leaned back with his eyes closed. It was nice to be back in a house, the _drem_ washing over him. While the attack hadn't lasted long, the fear that dominated that time made everything else fade away. It seemed to last years. Only now was he finally relaxing, the adrenaline leaving him with the threat gone.

He yawned and Gerdur chuckled as he ducked his head to try and hide it. "It's late," she said and stood, wandering over to a closet and pulling out a pair of bedrolls. "You two can sleep here tonight; don't want to bother Delphine if there's no need, hm?"

Ralof accepted with little fanfare. Nahkriin tried to protest, saying he could find somewhere else, he didn't want to impose, but one glare from the woman and he was laying near Ralof in his borrowed bed. Moments later, he was asleep.

* * *

The next morning brought warm sunlight and an odd feeling of displacement.

Nahkriin walked through the town at dawn, watching as the colors bled back into being. He sat with his feet in the _rath_ and just breathed as the sun warmed his back. The air was crisp in this province and he never grew tired of it, pleased by the difference after living in the muggy waterways of Leyawiin. That was another thing people were usually surprised by; if his kind came from the Black Marsh, why didn't he like _lokos_ like that? Surely he preferred muggy air, if it's reminiscent of the swamp?

He'd never lived in a swamp, or a marsh. He knew _Sarodaal_ and he liked the clean air of Leyawiin, though he was usually in the waterways. When his father sent him on this _wundaak_, he liked the air of the open plains and the mountains. The further north one went, the cleaner the air, though he was sure places like Riften would still be humid.

If there was one thing _Keizaal_ was best for, it was the soothing sharpness of air. And that was one of the only things he stayed in this province for.

Hod found him by the river, his feet still in the _lom_, but now laying on his back with his arms folded under his head. Nahkriin blinked lazily at him, pleasantly relaxed by the warmth of the sun.

"If you're willing, there's wood to be chopped," Hod said. No 'you better head for Whiterun'; no 'did you really see a dragon?' Just 'if you want to work, get to it'.

Nahkriin smiled. "Sure thing."

After he managed to pull himself away from the water, he spent the day chopping wood, selling the results to a grateful Hod. In _Keizaal_, one could never have enough firewood.

* * *

Once night fell, Nahkriin finally went to the tavern. It doubled as the Inn, but since there were only three rooms, it functioned mainly as a place to drown you sorrows. That wasn't why Nahkriin was here. Tonight, he was here because if he knew anything about trying to fit into a new, _b__ron_ dominated town, it was helping with all the little, tedious jobs no one else wanted to do.

He sat himself down on one of the stools, watching as Orgnar, the barkeep, cleaned the counter with a scowl. Perhaps it was from listening to his boss rail on him, perhaps from something else.

"Need anything fixed?" Nahkriin asked and the man glanced at him.

"There 're bandits in Embershard mine," the barkeep told him with a hint of a growl; no doubt that mine fueled the forge and without it, the town was losing _yuld_. Nahkriin nodded agreeably.

"Point me to it and I'll get rid of them for you," Nahkriin said and while Ordnar's mood finally lifted and he pointed out the mine on Nahkriin's map, Delphine watched him from across the tavern. When the _Siigonis_ stood, she moved to meet him.

"You seem oddly carefree about the attack at Helgen," she said as an opener and Nahkriin scowled at her.

"What makes you think that?" he inquired, faking nonchalance. This _miil_ grated on his nerves somehow.

"You came here with that Stormcloak from the south road; next thing we hear, Helgen's been burnt to the ground. Instead of doing anything, he hides away with his sister and you– what are you doing? _Chopping wood_?"

"Is there a point to this interrogation?" Nahkriin growled. His hands clenched at his sides and he told himself he wasn't going to hit her. But she was making it so _hard_.

"I just think you could be doing a little more to help with this dragon problem," she sneered and if she wasn't making him so mad, he would have seen the manipulative gleam in her eyes. He would have known he was being played and coerced. But he didn't because his sight was greying out, similar to how it did whenever he finally understood a _rotmulaag_.

"And why should I?" he snarled stepping closer and unknowingly letting Delphine direct them into the room on the right. The door closed and locked behind them but he didn't notice it. His eyes were on her and he glared. "I have _no_ obligation to this _nor_, much less _you_, so don't think you can _fun_ _zey_ what to do! What if I was just spending a _lith_ _sulle_ here to push away the _maar_ of that day? I was planning to go to _Ahrolsedovah_ _dirsul_, and then you _asnir_ in and tell me I _vodein__aan_ _heyvvei_? _Zu'u dreh ni lorot ful_!"

She looked stunned and stared at him with wide eyes as he panted, breathless after his rant. They stared at each other in strained silence. Slowly, Nahkriin regained his balance and the world faded back in, the grey mist that clouded everything drifting away. In its place, _gruin_ settled on him.

"I think you have some explaining to do," she managed after a few soundless attempts. Nahkriin frowned, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"What now?" he wondered. Something like a _gol_ sank in his stomach. He'd been speaking Imperial common, hadn't he? It was so hard to tell sometimes. But from her look, Nahkriin figured he hadn't been.

"Follow me," she commanded and turned towards a closet in the far corner of the room. Nahkriin contemplated running the other way, but in the end, followed. The closet turned out to be a hidden door, its false back sliding away to reveal a staircase and a basement room full of _zunne_ and maps and supplies. He shifted nervously once at the table. Delphine leaned on it, looking at him grimly. "As I said, you need to explain," she said when he made no move to speak.

"About what?" but he had an idea of what; he just didn't want to expand on it. Not to this woman. Something about her and her mannerism seemed _nizah_. He couldn't trust her. But it seemed like he didn't have a choice in the matter.

"You know what I mean," she growled. "Half of your words were in Draconic; the way you spoke exactly like the old accounts tell of the dragons when they spoke to man. _What was that_?"

Nahkriin considered ignoring her and simply not answering. She didn't need to know. But he'd already told Ralof and Gerdur and Hod; what was the _aax_ in telling another person? The way she was playing with the dagger stuck in the table finalized his decision.

"Dovahzul was taught to me by my father," he said and Delphine nodded tightly. "He wanted to make sure I knew my history and was in touch with it, like all of our family line before us. He thought it was important since much of the _lein_ refuses to believe our truth and we need all the advantages we can get since everything has its curses on us."

"You'll need to be clearer than that," she said, but her eyes had another gleam in them; she looked excited and he was sure she was holding her breath.

He wondered if she'd asphyxiate if he stalled long enough.

"I'm _D__ovahkiin_," he finally said, giving up on any harmful thoughts. She'd be too _golah_ to die that way.

All the air seemed to leave her when she let out her breath, sagging against the table. Her eyes were fast on him and he could clearly see the _keyr_ in them. He looked away.

"I can't believe it," she whispered. "After all this time... all our searching... I've finally–"

"_What_ are you talking about?" Nahkriin interrupted. She startled, focusing on him like she'd forgotten he was there.

"I am part of a group called the Blades," she said. Nahkriin had heard of them; they were an organization founded before the Oblivion Crisis, tasked to protect the Dovahkiin Emperors. He had been told they'd disbanded.

He nodded to show he was familiar with them, but she explained further anyway, "A very long time ago, the Blades were dragonslayers, and we served the Dragonborn, the greatest dragonslayer. For the last two hundred years, since the last Dragonborn emperor, the Blades have been searching for a purpose. Now that dragons are coming back, our purpose is clear again. We need to stop them."

Nahkriin gave her a flat stare. "This group of yours obviously didn't look for their 'purpose' very hard," he drawled. Delphine bristled, her teeth grinding.

"How _dare_ you–" she started but Nahkriin cut her off with a sharp shake of his head.

"You say the Blades serve the Dovahkiin," he recounted and she nodded. "My family has been Dovahkiin for eras, even before the Oblivion crisis. If you wanted to serve a Dovahkiin, you'd have been able to find us. The Meytuz family wasn't that hidden, learning and speaking Dovahzul as our primary language."

"Meytuz," she said with a hint of scorn in her voice. Nahkriin tensed hearing it. Her eyes narrowed. "You're a Meytuz?"

"Yes. Is there something _folaas_ with that?" Nahkriin asked, trying not to growl. The corners of his vision were starting to grey out again.

Delphine seemed to see he was nearing a breaking point and grimaced. She tried to hide it behind a smile, but it looked forced and Nahkriin wasn't fooled. "Of course not, no," she said calmly, but her eyes still held that _beyn_. So that was the reason his family hadn't been looked for. They weren't _bronne_. Of course. Predicable.

Nahkriin made a doubtful noise that was almost a hiss, though he knew that was just how his vocals worked. It reminded Delphine of his race, as everything about him did and she looked away. A minute of tense _nahlot_ hovered over them, choking the air out of the little room. Then, Delphine cleared her throat loudly and tapped the map spread out in front of her.

"What I've been trying to do recently," she started and her tone was pleasant enough though she refused to look at him, "is find out what Alduin is trying to do and _stop_ that. I've heard rumors of a stone tablet detailing the locations of all the dragon burial sights; if you're willing to _prove yourself_, you can retrieve this for me."

She looked up then and her flat gaze matched his. It seemed they had little _fir_ for each other, but Nahkriin would be damned if that stopped him from looking for peace.

"Fine. Where is it?"

"In the ruin on the mountain. Bleak Falls Barrow. That Stormcloak friend of yours might have told you about it." Her lip curled when she mentioned Ralof and Nahkriin found another reason to hate her, though he refrained from correcting her. Ralof wasn't really a _friend_...

"The one Lucian thinks the man who robbed his store is hiding in?" Nahkriin asked for confirmation and Delphine nodded.

"The item stolen was a claw – he may had told you this – and it works as a key for a door further into the tomb. The Dragonstone should be beyond that door."

"No doubt I'll find more than just this _gol_ past the door," Nahkriin grumbled under his breath, catching Delphines smirk and glaring. "Don't get _pahlokaal_," he snapped. "I'll find your rock. Expect it within the week."

With that, he turned on his heel, intending to walk right up those stairs and out of town to vent his _rahgot_ on the bandits nearby. That was his first job, regardless of this _miil_ recruiting him into her schemes. And he needed the excuse to train; he'd done much of nothing in Helgen and he really didn't want to face Draugr as his refresher into battle.

As he climbed, some of his irritation bled off; it wasn't really her fault _Siigonisse_ were held in a bad light by _every other race_. It was almost understandable in a way. Argonian was the only race that wasn't a mammal. They were lizards and as such, cold-blooded. He was sure there were plenty of _dahrinne_ stemming from that fact alone for the others to hate his kind. He just didn't have to like it.

"Hey, Meytuz!" Delphine called when Nahkriin was halfway up the stairs. He sighed heavily and came back into the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Delphine sent him a sneer before she smoothed it out. "I never caught your name."

"Really?" Nahkriin drawled, unimpressed. He shook his head. "My name is Nahkriin. It's Dovahzul for–"

"Vengeance," Delphine interrupted with wide eyes. He squinted warily at her.

"What now?"

"That name..." she swallowed heavily and gave a shaky laugh after. "It's the name of one of the eight Dragon Priests."

"A _Dovah Sonaak_? _Vahzen_?" Nahkriin gasped. He sagged against the wall with a laugh of his own. "That– Is _Motmahus_ a priest as well?"

"Not that I know of," Delphine said slowly, eying him. "There is a Morokei, though."

"_Morokei_," Nahkriin muttered, humor thick in his voice. "_Glorious._ No, that's not _bormahi_ at all."

"Who?"

Nahkriin shook his head, humor fading. "No one," he told her, and with one last narrow look, fled up the stairs. He wasn't running, he told himself as he exited the _haaf_. He was just in a hurry to help the people of Riverwood; clearing out that mine had to be important, didn't it?

Leaving Riverwood with the axe Ralof had let him borrow again, Nahkriin couldn't help but wonder why Delphine was so irksome to be around. Surely it wasn't just her prejudice against his _eylok_; he had the feeling that something less obvious than that was in play. If only he could figure out _what..._

* * *

Embershard mine was not as big as he'd thought it would be, but Nahkriin supposed Riverwood didn't really need a vast amount of _dol_. The amount that this mine yielded was more than enough for the meagre amount of weaponry the village needed.

There was a _thun__v__u_ waiting for him when he approached the mine, one who fell under his blade after only a brief struggle. The fights yesterday had helped more than Nahkriin had expected, then. _Pruzah_.

The inside of the mine led him to two more of the bandits, then a third once she heard her companions fall. Across a drawbridge and deeper into a cavern with a _lomah_ were the remaining three.

Nahkriin left two hours after he'd delved in, rotating his shoulders against the burn. It felt good to wield a weapon again, he decided, though he would need to find something _pruz_ than this. He didn't think he'd ever feel comfortable with anything less than _yostrah_.

When he returned to the Inn, Orgnar was delighted. And Delphine was nowhere in sight.

Good.

* * *

He ended his day sometime around dawn, and spent the time he should have been awake dozing by the _rath_. By noon, he was rested enough that when Hod scowled at him, he was _korin_ to simply duck his head and begin chopping wood. He was left alone after that.

By dusk, he felt he'd chopped more than enough _gosvah_ to last Riverwood, and settled back with a sigh. At the very least, his arms would gain back whatever muscle they'd lost during his time in Helgen. And, while repetitive and not geared towards fighting, this gave him practice in wielding an axe, the only _zun_ readily available to him.

As Nahkriin crawled into his borrowed bedroll for, hopefully, the last time, he went over his plans. Tomorrow, he would go to Bleak Falls Barrow in search of two stolen treasures and, maybe, he would be able to make it to Whiterun. The ruin would be harrowing to navigate and no doubt filled with the undead monstrosities native to this province.

Nahkriin loathed _qethgaaf_ with a passion. He was not looking forward to tomorrow.

With a quiet groan, he curled up and tried to sleep. He would need all he could get.

Divines help him.

* * *

Next chapter: _Benix Kendovve_

* * *

KEY:

Briinah. Sister.  
Skuld. Door/Gate.  
Zeymah. Brother.  
Bron. Nord.  
Oprotak. Execution.  
Lokolteiren. Imperial.  
Dovahzul. Draconic. (lit. Dragon voice)  
Dovahkiin. Dragonborn.  
Suleyk. Power.  
Kriind. Slaughter.

Wuld Nah Kest. Whirlwind Fury Tempest. Whirlwind Sprint Thu'um.  
Lok Vah Koor. Sky Spring Summer. Clear Skies Thu'um.  
Kaan Drem Ov. Kyne Peace Trust. Kyne's Peace Thu'um.  
Bormah. Father.  
Rotmulaag. Word of Power.

Goraan. Young.  
Tinvok. Language.  
Siigonis. Argonian.  
Drem. Peace.  
Lokos. Weather.  
Rath. River.  
Sarodaal. Cyrodiil.

Wundaak. Journey.  
Keizaal. Skyrim.  
Lom. Water.  
Yuld. Gold (money/Septims)  
Miil. Woman.  
Nor. Land.

Fun. Tell.  
Zey. Me.  
Lith. Few.  
Sul. Day.  
Maar. Terror.  
Ahrolsedovah. Whiterun (lit. Hill of Dragon)  
Dirsul. Tomorrow.  
Asnir. Hurry/used in place of Rush.  
Vodein(aan). (Have) abandon(ed).  
Heyv. Duty.  
Zu'u dreh ni lorot ful! I don't think so!

Gruin. Dread.  
Gol. Stone.  
Zun. Weapon.  
Nizah. False.  
Aax. Harm.  
Lein. World.

Golah. Stubborn.  
Keyr. Awe.  
Folaas. Wrong.  
Beyn. Scorn.  
Nahlot. Silence.  
Fir. Respect.

Pahlokaal. Arrogant.  
Rahgot. Anger.  
Dahrin. Reason.

Dovah Sonaak. Dragon priest.  
Vahzen. Truth/used in place of Truly or Really.  
Haaf. Inn.  
Eylok. Species.  
Dol. Iron.

Thunvu. Lawless/used in place of Bandit.  
Pruzah. Good.  
Lomah. Waterfall.  
Pruz. Better.  
Yostrah. Crystal/used in place of Glass.

Korin. Content.  
Gosvah. Wood.  
Qethgaaf. Draugr.

Adding a repeat of the last letter and -e makes a word plural. Adding -i makes it singular possessive (my, your, his, hers) while adding -u makes it plural possessive (our, their). Adding -aan makes it 'a perfect verb'. (From the UESP Dragon Language page, as well as the thuum dot org translator)


End file.
